


ferda babes

by sonatine



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Everyone's a Winner, F/M, M/M, Multi, katy gets financial security, reilly and jonesy get married, wayne gets something he didn't expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonatine/pseuds/sonatine
Summary: What everyone assumed about Katy was that she was self-serving and vain — and she was, being human. But that didn’t mean that was all she had to offer.
Relationships: Jonesy/Katy/Reilly (Letterkenny), Jonesy/Reilly (Letterkenny)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 202





	ferda babes

What Katy appreciated about Squirrelly Dan was that he knew how to keep his nuts hidden. When she accidentally broke Wayne’s good tractor’s gear, Dan stayed quiet and let Wayne assume it was sabotage of the McMurray variety. When she stole her mother’s 85-year-old bottle of Scotch and sold it on eBay to secretly replace Wayne’s old mattress, he let Wayne believe the house was haunted. That one benefited everyone at least; Daryl cleansed the house with “incense” (Febreze) and Wayne lit a Bath and Body Works Cinnamon Sugar candle every night thereafter to soothe any angry spirits. 

What everyone assumed about Katy was that she was self-serving and vain — and she was, being human. But that didn’t mean that was all she had to offer. 

#

Daryl dawdled over choring on Thursday and came in late for lunch. Because Wayne was a fascist for manners in a way that no one could begin to eat without everyone around the table, after thirty minutes of starvation Squirrelly Dan locked the front door and Katy mutinied by tucking into the potato mash. Wayne let Daryl hammer at the door for four minutes out of spite. The dog had to take pity on him and paw the door open. 

Daryl fell into a chair. “Someone donated a heap of money to the gas station.”

Wayne moved the orange juice away, centimeter by centimeter. “Is that an excuse?”

“It’s a question,” said Daryl. He had to concentrate on catching food, as everyone kept moving dishes away from him. “The question being, who would care about an old broken down gas station on the edge of town that only skids use as their clubhouse?”

Squirrelly Dan chewed meditatively on a piece of bacon. “Reckon the skids would care.” 

Daryl pounced onto a ham platter. The table rattled. Wayne stared him down. 

“To be fair,” started Squirrelly Dan. (Katy hissed to Wayne, _ Don’t. Even. _ He closed his mouth.) “I supposes that the gas station closing would matter to Missy Wharton.”

Daryl plowed through his seventh slice of bacon. “Who’s Missy Wharton?” 

“She owns the gas stations.”

“Really? Can’t recall ever seeing her around. Or the gas station ever being open.”

“I never said she was good at owning the gas stations.”

“She takes care of her sick mother most days.” Katy pulled on her tallest pair of boots to go with her shortest pair of shorts. “When she’s not at the tracks.” 

“I didn’t know she had a mother,” remarked Daryl. Wayne slapped him upside the head.

Squirrelly Dan asked, “How’s it that you knows all this, Miss Katy?”

“I’ve got a pretty face. People tell me things.” 

“And where you off to at this hour?” asked Wayne, eyes narrowed.

“The feed store,” she said, and grabbed a box of condoms from the shelf. 

#

“Thank you kindly, Kathleen,” said the proprietress and acclaimed occultist of the feed store. “I knows I won’t make it to town next month, and my Bryan refuses to buy contraception online.”

“Why’s that?” Katy checked off _ chicken, horse_, and _ misc. _ on the form and slid it across the counter. 

“Oh, you know. He says you can’t trust rubbers you don’t buy yourself. Says anybody can do anything to them when you’re not looking. I’m throwing in some dog treats for your princess.”

“I think that’s for drinks at a bar.” Katy hefted the bag over the counter. 

“That’s not what Reilly and Jonesy say. Reilly said he had a bad batch of johnnies from the Amazon dot com that almost got him landed with a baby.”

“Ah. Well. Crisis averted.” Katy opened the door with her knee, bag balanced on her hip. 

“You know,” said the feed store occultist with a wave of her hand. The door popped open. “I got the feeling he wouldn’t have minded.” 

#

Katy dropped the dog treats off at MoDean’s. Gail slid her a drink across the bar. Slowly. “And how are _ you_, Miss Model?”

“All right.” Katy spun around on her stool. “Why do you ask?”

Gail shrugged a shoulder. “Just that you’re back home. With your brother. No job.”

Katy glared. “We’ve got the farm.”

“Sure do.”

“What about you? Still lusting after that beat-up house on Lawson?”

“Naw.” Gail swiped aside a celebrity alert on her phone. “Some degens came in and bought it up before I could make an offer.”

“Um, I’m sorry, some rich city folk wanted that POS A-frame?”

“City folk like to gentrify.”

Katy slumped onto the counter. She leaned her head onto her arms. It was nice and cool. Midday bar runs weren’t as grim as people said. “How short were you on the asking price?”

“Shoot. Doesn’t even matter. It was the only place regular people had a shot at here.”

Katy lifted her head. “What do you mean?”

She spun a strand of hair around her finger. Gail watched her avidly. Gail was the only one Katy would ever show off for. No one else appreciated beauty like Gail. When she looked at you, you could see your own beauty through her eyes.

The door slammed open in a gust of wind. Gail shook her head. 

“Everything else was bought up by our parents. And they’re not building any new houses. We can’t afford any of the old houses. You see what I mean? It’s like,” Gail leaned forward, “when a lady looks at you real pretty? But she’s already with a fella. And by the time you could get her to dump him, she wouldn’t be interested anymore.”

Katy said, “Thanks, Gail.” 

#

Jonesy pulled Katy’s hips down, hands clutching into her thighs. Reilly knelt below her and put his mouth to good use. They each really played to their strengths both on and off the ice. She sank her hands into Reilly’s hair to lever herself up. At this angle she could see the jeep from the window. 

“No one’s gonna steal your grain,” grunted Jonesy. 

Katy clutched onto Reilly’s hair; this time for balance. “Stick to sticks, boys. Leave the farm business to me.” One of Jonesy’s hands lifted from her hip. He slid it down her leg, to reach for Reilly’s hand. Reilly clasped it, interlocking their fingers. “That’s quality grain.” 

Jonesy made a choking sound. He collapsed onto the bed. She collapsed onto Jonesy, and Reilly collapsed onto her stomach. The three of them sprawled together in a heap across the stupid basic blue sheets. Reilly ran an absentminded hand against her stomach. This was standard, though she’d never paid it attention before. Now, she noticed Jonesy’s hand curled across Reilly’s shoulder. Now, she noticed Reilly stealing glances up at Jonesy’s open mouth. 

Interesting. 

#

“I mean that it’s uninteresting to the general public, Dary,” said Wayne, who still hadn’t forgiven him for being late the day before. “Pick a new topic.” 

“The topic is you being a brat,” said Daryl, and slammed the door to the bathroom. This meant they’d be treated to a symphony of unpleasantness unless they all spoke very loudly. 

“What was Wayne like as a baby, Miss Katy?” Squirrelly Dan shouted. “Was he as much of a brat as now?”

“Worse,” screamed Katy, “if he didn’t get his way.”

“I resent the implication,” yelled Wayne, “that refusing to let you have candy for dinner was ‘getting my way’.”

“You were ten when mum and dad died. Stop pretending you were a child parent.”

“I was a child parent! Uncle Sam fell asleep in front of the television set every day at 4:30pm.”

“I falls asleep in front of the television set too,” hollered Squirrelly Dan, “but only after some quality time with a lady friend.”

There was a pause in the conversation to see if it was safe to stop yelling. It wasn’t. 

“Do you want kids, Wayne?” shouted Squirrelly Dan. “Even afters raising Miss Katy?”

“Sure! I like kids!”

“That’s because you don’t have to birth them,” said Katy. 

“Technically, you don’t have to birth them either,” said Wayne. They could yell at a slightly lower decibel now. “If you had unlimited funds, you could pay for a surrogate.”

“If I had unlimited funds and I were the type of folk with a uterus,” said Squirrelly Dan, “I would birth a baby myself and use the unlimited funds elsewhere.” 

“But if you had unlimited funds, you could pay someone to have your baby and _ still _ have funds leftover to use elsewhere.”

Squirrelly Dan considered this. They all took the opportunity to take a hefty swig of beer. Wayne took an extra one to try and purge his recent memory. “Now that’s a lifestyle I wouldn’t say no to,” said Squirrelly Dan. 

“I have heard very few complaints from the ultra-rich,” said Wayne, as Daryl came ambling back out glowing in satisfied vengeance.

#

The next time at Reilly and Jonesy’s house, Katy held up a hand when Jonesy reached for her. 

“I want to watch this time.”

“_Nice_,” the boys said in unison, and high-fived. Jonesy sprinted to the TV. “Girl on girl? Mix of everything?”

“Jonesy, please. Some respect. Now, Katy: mainstream or indie?” asked Reilly, scrolling through his laptop. 

“No, boys,” said Katy. “I want to watch _ you. _”

They looked up. 

“Just us?” said Reilly. 

“Just us with no Katy Cat?” said Jonesy. 

“Katy Cat will be watching,” she said, spreading her thighs open. She leaned back in the armchair that doubled as Reilly’s bookshelf. Jonesy and Reilly’s eyes dropped. “You can start whenever,” she added, sliding her bra straps down and her hands into the cups. 

Jonesy turned to Reilly, uncertain. Reilly stepped closer to Jonesy. A hand came up experimentally to stroke a face. A mouth pressed against another, cautiously. 

They moved to the bed, arms tangled, legs sliding together, Reilly’s hand cupping Jonesy’s jaw, Jonesy’s hand cupping Reilly’s ass. 

“You’re glowing, bro.”

“You’re radiant, buddy.” 

Katy came first. Jonesy, always eager to please, was never far behind. 

#

Katy took the boys’ Jeep to the gas station to fill up the tires. She hefted the grain of feed over the counter and flashed her shiniest smile. Missy Wharton claimed to be heterosexual, but life was nothing without tenacity. 

“Ugh, you lifesaver.” Missy flashed an equally shiny smile. No one in Letterkenny could afford braces growing up, but Missy Wharton was not built like regular people. Katy admired her arms as Missy lifted the grain sack effortlessly onto a top shelf. “You go on and fill up that truck. No charge.” 

“Don’t be stupid.” Katy slid a ten dollar bill — sensually, she wasn’t a monk — from her cutoffs and tucked it into Missy’s shirt pocket. She pretended to peruse the community flyers on the counter while Missy answered a phone call, and lifted a handful of black and white _ tastefuls_. Missy covered the olive receiver with her hand. “Now when is someone going to worry about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Katy checked the Reverend's insta stories to see if she should bother swinging by the church or to just head straight for the cinnamon pretzel stand at the bowling alley. “I can take care of myself.” 

#

The boys picked Katy up from the church. They had to dodge a cartel of old ladies doddering to the fellowship hall for a wedding reception. By the looks of their speed, it was a shotgun and inside waited some prime gossip. 

Katy pocketed the concert tickets she’d gotten in exchange for securing the photographer a gallery deal. The boys swung out of the Jeep, polishing off burgers and fries, and handing a mostly-full shake to Katy. 

She pointed the straw at the party exiting the church. “Either of you want to get married?”

Reilly snorted. Jonesy snorted louder. 

“Shackle ourselves, boys?”

“Enter the lifelong prison, ferda?”

“The home with all rules.” 

“The pad with no freedom.”

“One girl for ever.”

“No more sick times with the boys, bro.”

There was a brief commotion on the sidewalk. One of the groomsmen had stepped in gum. He grasped onto a bridesmaid for support. She toppled into the hedge. He toppled onto Mr. Whitman’s tuna casserole. 

Katy said, “You don’t like kids?”

“Sure,” said Jonesy. “Love kids.”

“Kids are ace,” said Reilly.

“Kids are where it’s _ at _,” said Jonesy. “But no marriage without Reilly, boys.”

“No marriage without Jonesy, ferda.”

“It’s marriage and _ babies_, boys,” said Reilly miserably, as Jonesy echoed, downcast, “No marriage, no babies, ferda.” 

The wedding party filed into the hall. The churchyard fell silent. The fields beyond were blanketed in fog. Jonesy’s flip flops scuffed against the concrete. For the first time since she’d returned home, Katy felt small and trapped. 

She said, “You don’t necessarily need marriage to have babies.”

Jonesy tossed his crumpled up fast food containers to Reilly. “Babies out of wedlock, ferda?”

Reilly alley-ooped their combined trash into the bin. “Raise babies on your _ own_, boys?”

“That’s suicide, boys.” 

“That’s a game you can’t win, ferda.”

Katy said, “Why don’t you just marry each other?”

Reilly and Jonesy stopped horsing around. They stared at each other. 

They stared at each other for a long time. 

Katy herded them towards the Jeep. They kept stealing glances at each other like a mob fizzled down from their bloodlust. She said, “So just to clarify: you wouldn’t worry about what people would say?”

They stopped shuffling their feet and stealing lovelorn glances. 

“What would they say?” asked Reilly. 

“Who cares about people who aren’t Reilly?” added Jonesy, which is how Katy knew she was about to come into some really fucking good karma.

Jonesy and Reilly started a game of catch with the car keys. Katy kicked at a tire. It squelched. She’d have Missy charge Reilly double to pay for her mother’s kidney transplant. “What about last week when Mrs. Parsons yelled at you for holding hands at the market?”

“That old bat?” said Reilly. He tossed an overhand. “I threw up on her porch when I was eight. She hates us, boys.”

“What about Rodney Pearson calling you a homo?”

“We are homos,” said Jonesy, lunging to scoop an underhand. “He hates that we beat him at trivia night.” They fist-bumped. “Champions of the month, boys.”

“Reilly’s dad didn’t know how to bond with his kids besides watching Jeopardy—” Jonesy winced where the keys made contact with his kidney. 

Katy leaned against the Jeep’s door frame. Summer was coming. The breeze had moisture in it. A van chugged by with a surfboard strapped to the roof. 

“It’d be nice to travel,” she said. 

#

Reilly and Jonesy agreed to another solo session with Katy watching without much persuasion. But they both tacitly hauled her onto the bed after for the regular cool-down pile-up. Reilly passed around a half-empty bottle of Gatorade. He swept a strand of Katy’s hair from her face. “What are you thinking?” 

“I’m thinking,” said Katy, “that it’d be nice to travel.”

Jonesy took a swig of lemon-lime and gargled it. “Travel’s expensive.”

“Unless you got that hockey money, bro,” said Reilly.

“Unless you got that hockey money like _ us _, bro!” 

They high-fived.

Katy stretched out. Her head was pillowed on the largest of Reilly’s pecs. It was not uncomfortable. Jonesy’s thigh was put to use as a footrest. “You know what else hockey money can buy?” 

#

Daryl came into the kitchen. He looked around. “Something’s missing.”

“The good cafetière, I know.” Wayne glared down at his tepid mug of tea. “It’s in the shop.” 

Daryl considered for a moment. “No, that’s not it.” He sat down too, spooning five lumps of sugar into his tea. Then, “Where’s Katy?”

“Don’t for sure know.” Wayne licked his thumb and turned the page. “Think she’s traveling.” 

The next day Squirrelly Dan came in hot after sowing the new barley crops. He broke down the front door. (“Gonna make a pretty cent off those degen breweries this year, boys! Some pretty lookin’ rows if I do say so myself this season! Like plaited hair!”) It took him the better part of the afternoon to fix it. He sat down at the table after. “Haven’t seen Katy in a whiles.”

Wayne tossed him a postcard. The stamp had a fish and a lot of f’s and s’s on it.

“She seeing the world, then?”

Wayne said, “It would appear so.”

Squirrelly Dan and Daryl exchanged a look. “Any idea when she’s getting back?”

Unconcerned: “I suppose when she’s ready.”

#

Katy was ready three months later. She was ready to give birth three after that. 

#

Wayne did not slam the door. Wayne had never slammed a door in his life. He shut it firmly and calmly, which was so much worse. Hands on hips: “You tell me right now who’s knocked you up.”

Katy lifted her feet higher on the couch. “Not important.”

Wayne knocked a vase onto the floor. The cat, who’d been planning to do the same thing, eyed him ungraciously. “How are you going to support a baby? You have no money and you spent all your savings on travel.”

“Uh, I’m not keeping it. And I didn’t pay for my trip.” Katy threw out a hand. “Dary, help me to the bathroom.” 

Daryl got up for the third time that hour. 

Wayne jabbed a finger. “We are not done talking about this. I haven’t even been able to make a cradle yet. You can’t make a cradle without engraving the parents’ names on it, Katy. We’re still civilized people.”

“Put Jonesy and Reilly’s names on it.” Katy stopped to catch her breath. She rubbed her lower back. 

From the kitchen, Squirrelly Dan said sympathetically, “That boy sitting low on you, Miss Katy?”

“Everyone knows girls are rounder,” said Daryl. “Boys are longer.”

“Myself, I don’t know that that’s true.” Squirrelly Dan scratched his chin. “My aunt Jeruca was the exact size and measurements of a basketball, and she had my cousin Beau. And he’s about the manliest man you can get.”

“He sells Korean skincare at the farmer’s market, Dan,” said Daryl.

“As I said.” 

“I can’t put Jonesy _ and _ Reilly’s names on the cradle,” said Wayne. “It won’t fit. Just tell me which one is the father. I won’t even beat him up. I’ll do the nicest calligraphy for his name, not yours.”

Katy belched. So did Squirrelly Dan. “Did you know Jonesy’s true given name is Beau? My aunt Jeruca made his mum change it. She said she both kids couldn’t have the same name, but Jonesy’s mum said it _ wasn’t _ the same seeing as hers was a girl baby. High as summer corn she was, off the birthing drugs, you see. So they settled things over a cultured game of _ Streefighter_. Unfortunately for Jonesy, my aunt Jeruca has never lost a bet in her life. She beat rabies out of pure spite. Rose from the grave a day after being declared legally dead.”

“That’s true,” said Katy, and finally made it to the bathroom. 

“My uncle _ was _ trying to commit insurance fraud, mind you.” 

“That’s wonderful, Dan,” said Wayne. 

#

Daryl screamed all the way to the hospital, because Wayne was pushing over 120 on the highway. Katy did not scream all the way, because she’d pre-booked an epidural. George St-Georges, the nurse with whom she swapped artisanal cheeses twice a month, was waiting for her at the entrance with a wheelchair. 

Reilly arrived to the room first, because Jonesy was the only one who knew how to parallel park. Katy could see the Jeep from the window: it was halfway up the curb, and on top of a mailbox. 

Wayne was trying to hide his tears behind a coughing fit.

“Well, big brother?” She held out the baby to him. “What do you think?”

“It’s butt-ugly,” Wayne choked. 

Baby Frankie came every Sunday to visit. She cried when anyone except Wayne tried to hold her. Jonesy offered, “Katy? Want a turn?”

“No thanks.” Katy shut the fridge door with her hip. Her tank top rode up. She watched Jonesy’s eyes drop. “Babies aren’t my thing.”

“You fellas be careful up there,” Wayne called as Jonesy and Reilly followed Katy up the stairs. He was cradling the infant and glaring at whoever threatened to fancy a cuddle. “We don’t want a repeat of the most beautiful girl to have ever been born.” 

Katy said, “That’s exactly what we’re planning, big brother.” 

Wayne rocketed to his feet, the chair tipping over behind him. Frankie slept unconcernedly in his arms.

Daryl didn’t let Katy use a computer without passing behind her five times with an increasingly tepid cup of tea. _ Groceries_, he mouthed to Wayne, who was peering from behind the staircase. And _ Sofa_, another time. 

“Any travel plans?” Wayne asked Katy every time she came downstairs.

“Nope.” 

“Good.” Wayne flicked the newspaper back up. “And the old sofa’s fine.”

She kissed the top of his head. “Sure is.” 

Squirrelly Dan came bursting through the back door a week later, panting. He hunched over, hands braced on knees. Wayne looked up from the crossword. “What’s a five-letter-word for ‘stubborn’?”

“Pig-headed,” Daryl suggested. 

Wayne said, “Five.” 

Squirrelly Dan gulped in a breath. “Someone’s bought the old Hendersson place on the edge of town.”

Wayne shot out of his chair. Daryl blew on his coffee. “So what?”

“I’ll tell you what.” Wayne went to find his boots. “The old Hendersson house is the trashiest piece of decrepit rotting wood that there ever was. No one would want it. Repairs would cost a fortune and rebuilding even more.”

Daryl considered. “So what are you all riled up for?”

Wayne untangled his scarf from the umbrella stand. His coat was on backwards but he buttoned it up anyway. “You know who would be foolhardy and rich enough to buy a place like that?” 

Squirrelly Dan finally caught his breath. “But that’s not all,” he wheezed. “Bill the realtor says it’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life. Like Country Coupons cover pretty.”

“I’ll tell you who,” Wayne answered his own question. “_Degens from upcountry_.”

Daryl pulled on his coat too. Squirrelly Dan, who had never taken his off, fished for keys to the tractor. “What would a degen want with a broken down old farm at the far end of town?” 

“I’ll tell you what,” Wayne slammed the door. “No good,” he finished, hammering on the door of the old Hendersson house, politely avoiding the _ SOLD _ sign taped to it. 

The door opened. Katy leaned against the jamb. “Hi, big brother.” 

#

Elijah was born mid-winter. Frankie wore an orange hat and scarf knitted for her by Squirrelly Dan, and clung to Wayne’s shoulder for the entirety of the hospital visit. She eyed the newborn dubiously. “Baby?” 

“That’s right, baby,” said Reilly through tears, cradling Elijah. At this point jealousy snuck up on Frankie, and she demanded that Reilly hold her instead. “_My _ daddy,” she told Jonesy, who instead took his turn feeding Elijah. This was all too much for Frankie, who thus seeing both her fathers enamored with some newfangled toy, demanded Wayne and Daryl take her outside to build a snowman. 

“Katy?” Jonesy asked. “Want a hold?”

“No, thanks,” said Katy, climbing out of the hospital bed. “I’m redoing the crown molding on my house today.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr link](https://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/188948755864/what-katy-appreciated-about-squirrelly-dan-was)
> 
> hands up for the real mayor of letterkenny


End file.
